Mr. and Mrs. Ogilvie returned to the drawing-room.
“You spoil that child,” said the wife, “but it is on a par with everything else you do. You have no perception of what is right. I don’t pretend to be a good mother, but I don’t talk nonsense to Sibyl. She ought not to speak about nurse and governess before servants, and it is disgraceful of her to drag the footman and his concerns into the conversation at dinner. She ought not, also, to boast about doing naughty things.”
“I wish you would leave the child alone,” said Ogilvie in an annoyed voice; “she is good enough for me, little pet, and I would not have her altered for the world. But now, Mildred, to return to our cause of dissension before dinner, we must get this matter arranged. What do you mean to do about your invitation to Grayleigh Manor?”
“I have given you my views on that subject, Philip; I am going.”
“I would much rather you did not.”
“I am sorry.” Mrs. Ogilvie shrugged her shoulders. “I am willing to please you in all reasonable matters; this is unreasonable, therefore I shall take my own way.”
“It is impossible for me to accompany you.”
“I can live without you for a few days, and I shall take the child.”
“Sibyl! No, I do not wish it.”
“I fear you must put up with it. I have written to say that Sibyl and I will go down on Saturday.”